


The Devil's Cherries

by megyal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-15
Updated: 2007-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-23 09:10:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>[from request] Bellatrix/Voldemort - Her initiation by Voldemort involving him seducing her sexually (almost Phantom of the Opera like, but obviously, she's not innocent herself)</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Devil's Cherries

**Author's Note:**

> There is a scene featuring some animal cruelty. If you find this upsetting, please do not read or skip the first section.
> 
> Written for [](http://enchantedescape.livejournal.com/profile)[**enchantedescape**](http://enchantedescape.livejournal.com/) for the [](http://hp-wintersmut.livejournal.com/profile)[**hp_wintersmut**](http://hp-wintersmut.livejournal.com/) fic exchange.  
> 

Druella Black took her daily walks in the evening, always trailed by a house-elf as her large stomach reduced her normally graceful gait into a waddle. She liked to go into the massive, quiet gardens, feeling the cool cobblestones of the pathways press up through the soft soles of her shoes and against her swollen feet. It was her alone-time; usually, at this hour of the day, both Bellatrix and Andromeda were having a nap and she was free, even for a little while, to do as much as she wished.

Today, she decided to go into the greenhouse; Ninsie dashed towards it and pulled open the tall glass door for Druella, the tips of the house-elf's large ears trembling in delight as Druella hummed absently, stepping inside. She pushed away the searching tendrils of her most affectionate vines, stepping past rows of her precious orchids, plucking at a brown leaf here and there and banishing it with an idle flick of her wand. Small acts of magic such as this would not affect her child, soon to be born. She pressed a hand against her stomach, lips curling contentedly as the baby kicked at her palm.

The back of the greenhouse was very dark and she paused, tilting her head; she was quite sure she heard a noise, as if someone was whispering quietly. Giving Ninsie a stern look, she leaned over the last row of plants and, pushing aside the lush leaves, peered into the gloom.

A small girl was kneeling on the floor, her brightly embroidered robes seeming to glow in the quiet dark as the deep-green leaves surrounded her, moving gently in a faint breeze. Her black hair was caught in a long braid, falling in a straight line down that narrow back. Druella opened her mouth to sharply berate her first-born child for sullying her robes in the dirt of the greenhouses, but as Bellatrix began to croon softly, she held herself in check, listening carefully.

"Little berries, little cherries," Bellatrix sang in a breathless voice, her song tuneless. "Little black cherries, I give you, I give you, I give you to Clément!"

Druella frowned. Clément was the little Crup that had been given to Bella by Alphard a few months ago. Bellatrix had been highly displeased with the animal; she had complained that it wanted to be friends with her and that was not right. A Crup was a Crup and not a friend. Druella and Cygnus had been amused at the time and she watched now quite carefully as little Bella's hands moved in calm, insistent circles.

"Clément, Clément," Bellatrix said in a laughing little voice; Druella shivered. "Come, little Clément. Eat it all."

There was a distressed whine and Bellatrix laughed again, the sound so sharp that it broke Druella's reverie.

"Bellatrix?" The little girl jumped at her mother's cool voice and twisted around, still kneeling. The Crup fell out of her grasp, its small body limp on the ground as it took shallow breaths, eyes rolling up to look at Druella pleadingly as she stepped close. "Bella, what are you doing?"

"It doesn't deserve to be mine," Bellatrix said absently, her tiny palm open in her lap; Druella saw black and green berries nestled comfortably in the valley of embroidered cloth in her lap. "Mother, the Lord Voldemort told me about these berries. Remember?"

Druella nodded, smiling slightly. The Crup whined on the ground again, but they both ignored it. The charismatic Lord had been at dinner a few evenings ago over at Walburga's, talking seriously about the infuriating state of Mudbloods in their society. Bella's eyes had been large as the adults had lamented on the fall of their world, brought on by those half-bloods who knew nothing at all. Not to mention those Muggles blithely going through life, battling for status in the scheme of things as if they did not know what real power was.

Lord Voldemort; such a travelled, learned young man. He was so concerned with the withering state of their society. Druella had claimed that a man of his thoughts must surely campaign for the post of Minister, but Lord Voldemort had demurred.

"I would not put myself in such a role," he had claimed, a small smile in his pale face. "Yet, if my friends and well-wishers determine that it is a job I will do, then I would put all my energy into it." His dark eyes had been passionate. "I would help us save our world, for ourselves... and our children."

Lord Voldemort's appearance had been strange, yet his eyes burned with conviction. To be sure, his unusual visage was caused by his travels; nonetheless, power crackled around him and Druella noticed her oldest child was not the only one leaning towards it with surreptitious hunger. How pleased she had been when the Lord Voldemort had focused on her Bella, murmuring at her lovely little face. He had told her, as she knelt at his knee, about the deadly nightshade.

"You and the Nightshade are _bella_ , do you understand?" His smile was small and Bellatrix beamed. Andromeda stared from a corner of the drawing room; she had refused to come closer to the Lord Voldemort for some reason and Cygnus stood near the fireplace, patiently bearing her tight grip, her little face twisted in suspicion. "You are both beautiful and strong. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise, my dear little one."

"I won't!" Bella had said with determination and the adults had laughed.

Now, Druella looked down at Bellatrix, who was poking Clément curiously in its ribs, which were moving in a rapid, shallow, rhythm. As they watched, the movement ceased and Bella looked up at her mother with a little smile.

"That is that!" She leaped to her feet, racing to Druella and wrapping her hands around her mother's legs even as Ninsie slid forward to dispose of the Crup. Druella spelled her hands clean and brushed dark strands of hair out of her little face.

"Bellatrix, darling. I'd rather you not play with that plant again. You might harm yourself."

"I don't care," Bellatrix said, going on tip-toes to press her face into her mother's belly. She smiled as the baby moved restlessly. "Little sister. I am here, your Bellatrix. Everyone says I am beautiful and strong and they are _right_."

 ****

ii.

  


Bellatrix smirked at Andromeda as they rocked in the carriage that was carrying them to up through to the main house. Andromeda was refusing to look at her, choosing to stare out the window at the gently falling snow.

Bellatrix gave in to her urge to taunt. "Still sulking over your little Muggle Teddy?" She grinned as Andromeda's head snapped around and she glared heatedly. Narcissa, who was tucked in right beside Bellatrix, looked between them both, her eyes very large and blue in her face. Bellatrix ran a hand through her fair hair, tugging at the ends and Narcissa rolled her eyes and pulled away, determined not to be treated as a little girl anymore. She was in first-year, after all, done quite well for the Christmas term and she made sure to remind them anytime they treated her like a baby.

"He's a wizard, you know." Andromeda was shaking with anger and Bellatrix huffed in amusement. "He's a wizard _just like us_ and you didn't have to do... you didn't have to do what you did."

"Muggle, Mudblood, they're both the same." Bellatrix waved a careless hand in the air and then peered at Andromeda with a sly smile. "How do you know what I did? How do you know he didn't _want_ what I did?"

She could feel Narcissa's confusion beside her, poor young darling, but she concentrated on Andromeda's face, which had gone almost completely bloodless.

"I'll... I'll tell Mother what you've been up to instead of preparing for your O.W.L.'s." Andromeda's voice was low and desperate; Bellatrix leaned back against the plush seat and laughed until she cried.

"But aren't O.W.L's important?" Narcissa was blinking up in her face as Bellatrix dashed tears of humour away from her eyes. Andromeda had gone back to her window-staring. "Aren't they, Bella?"

"I suppose so, Cissy." Bellatrix stretched luxuriously and then pulled on her gloves as the carriage entered the courtyard. "But there are more important things. Such as knowing who counts and who doesn't." She smiled at her bristling younger sister, feeling feral. "Tell Mother, if you like. Tell Father too! I'll just have them know who you've been consorting with at school. What do you think they will say, hmm? For a Ravenclaw, 'Meda, you've been quite silly." Bellatrix allowed her smile to soften, even though Andromeda's face looked thunderous. "All I've ever done, I've done for our family, for Cissy and _you_."

"What a crock," Andromeda spat and Bellatrix fought not to descend into peals of laughter again, but it was a close thing. Really, 'Meda was far too easy. "You're awful. I hate you, I really do."

Andromeda exited out of the carriage in a flurry of dark robes and darker hair. Bellatrix snickered some more and pulled Narcissa out of the carriage, ignoring her indignant yells as she tried to yank away from Bellatrix's grasp.

Mother greeted them inside with a small smile, hugging Narcissa tightly and ignoring her muffled protests. She exclaimed over Andromeda's pale, drawn face and seemed satisfied when 'Meda claimed that she was possibly studying too hard.

"Ah, look at you." Druella looked over Bellatrix carefully. "And here I thought you stopped growing. We're going to need new robes, you seemed to have gained a few inches."

"And even more loveliness," a smooth voice came from the corridor and Bellatrix felt her entire being twist in pleasure to see _him_ standing near the drawing room door. Lord Voldemort looked taller himself and much thinner than when she had seen him a few years ago, his face strangely without wrinkles and yet drawn at the same time... but his eyes were the same: piercing and deep.

He came towards her quickly, taking his hands from where they had been folded in his long sleeves and Bellatrix did not even think as he held them out; she simply placed her smaller ones in his and gave him her most open smile, the one that lured people in and lulled them into letting down their guard. Lord Voldemort's expression remained indulgent, however.

"Bella," he intoned gravely and she stood as straight as she could. "The pride of the Blacks."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her sisters looking at them. Narcissa looked enthralled but Andromeda's face was a barely controlled mask, ripples of distrust escaping nonetheless. Andromeda was a fool, anyway.

Their mother shooed them off to prepare for dinner and Bellatrix coyly released Lord Voldemort's hands, which were cool and dry. She went to her room and took a luxurious bath, making sure to spell the subtle scent of roses to her smooth skin. Then she dressed herself in that flowing violet gown Mother had bought for her a month or so ago, so deep in that shade that it appeared almost a shiny ebony; the neckline was very high, almost to her chin and the sleeves long and full, the soft material moulded to her thin body. Father would be appeased, but she wasn't wearing it for him, was she?

Of course, Father glowered affectionately at her, and she smiled sweetly at him as she sat at the massive dining table. Narcissa, unfortunately dressed in some large puffy concoction, wrinkled her nose at everything, picky child. Andromeda was seated beside her, head held high as the low conversation of the adults again swirled around their fragile blood-lines and the need for preservation. At first, Bellatrix didn't give a boggart's arse about what they were talking about, she was quite busy displaying; then, she began to pay attention.

"The Ministry _does not_ have its priorities right. Why must _we_ hide who we are? We are above them. There are only so few of us, and there is a reason for that. Great power requires those of a great mind to control it." Lord Voldemort barely touched his food. His eyes were alight with conviction. "Those who do not appreciate the history, the wealth of our power, must not be allowed to use it."

"And yet Hogwarts still allows half-breeds into the school. I find this appalling," Aunt Walburga said in her screechy voice. Bellatrix was glad she had, as usual, left Sirius and Regulus at Grimmauld Place. Regulus was tolerable, but Sirius was a quick, taunting little beggar who required a tiring use of hexes.

"Yes. But that is caused by the one at its helm."

He looked so noble, so proud. Bellatrix found her mind turning over his words, pondering their truths. She suddenly had a very clear thought, almost a vision, of Lord Voldemort being the greatest wizard in history. He already practically shimmered with sheer power; people would whisper his name from Floo to Floo.

She was still contemplating all this as they retired to the drawing room, their speech rolling over her head as Narcissa and Andromeda were sent to bed, quite happily in 'Meda's case.

"Bellatrix."

She started, looking around herself and realising they were alone in the drawing room, the fire banked low. Lord Voldemort was seated in the shadows, his pale fingers spread over the arm of the chair, a still white spider. She could not see his face.

She moved slowly, arranging her long limbs so that the cloth draped attractively. He was awe-inspiring and powerful, but still just a man, right? She smiled coyly and there was a white flash of teeth in return.

"Why, Lord Voldemort. Here we are alone. Where has everyone gone?"

The smile faded back into the darkness and Bellatrix tossed her hair back, knowing that the long, silky length of it was a seduction onto itself. A low sigh came from across the room and Bellatrix felt smug.

"Did you know your sister fears me? The middle child," Lord Voldemort said casually and Bellatrix frowned at this. "Why do you think this is?"

"I don't think she does, she--"

"But she does. It was right in the front of her mind, for anyone to see." Lord Voldemort sounded strangely pleased with this and Bellatrix wrinkled her nose, feeling a little like Narcissa.

"She fears me," Lord Voldemort continued, "Because she does not understand true power. Unlike you, Bellatrix."

"Of course! Of course, my Lord. I understand it."

"Your only failing is that that you don't know what to use true power _for_." Bellatrix felt her face flame at his low rebuke. Suddenly, her pose seemed childish. "There is more at stake than your beauty. There is an entire world to think of. A world that must be changed. And I am the one who will ultimately change it."

She rose to her feet and went to stand near the fire, frowning down at it as she stood with her back straight. Then, she felt fingers stroking down the side of her neck, from under her ear to her collarbone, pressing through the thin material of her gown.

"Ah," Lord Voldemort murmured in her ear. How had he moved over here so quietly? "You are confused and offended. You think that you deserve so much in life. Possibly you do. But other things, Bellatrix, must be focused on, do you see? They must be taken care of. And I need people who are strong enough to help me. Who are almost _dangerous_ in their conviction."

"I am strong enough... and dangerous enough." Bellatrix set her jaw and then just as quickly unclenched it as she felt something brush against her ear, setting off a wave of shivers on her skin. Lips; the Lord Voldemort's generous mouth was at her ear.

"Yes, Bellatrix. Of _course_ you are."

iii.

  


The mark on her arm had been created with the essence of Nightshade; everyone's ritual was unique and Bellatrix had thought it simply perfect that Lord Voldemort had chosen this for her. It was fitting. Her betrothed, Rodolphus, had been the one who had prepared it, quite carefully. He had been very good at Potions and the person most inclined to go along with whatever her sly whimsy dictated. She was so amused by her Rodolphus; he was much a willing victim of her games as much as he was a co-conspirator. Besides, the Lestranges were a fine match for her family.

But they all knew who was truly at the depth of her heart.

The Lord Voldemort had pricked his finger with a long slender knife and then regarded her long frame on the stone table. The bowl of essence had been placed at her feet and he allowed his blood to fall, three perfect crimson droplets, into the dark liquid.

"Such a beauty," her Lord Voldemort mused, raking his eyes over her displayed body. She made no effort to pull at her bindings, which were tight and scraped the flesh at her wrists and ankles. She had tied other students far tighter than this in school, laughing wildly as they realised that she would not free them until she had her way. This was _nothing_ ; if there was more she could do, more that he would do to her, she would accept it and gladly. She told him as much. As a matter of fact, she didn't need to be tied up, she would have lain there on her own accord. Lord Voldemort had laughed softly at that, as he was laughing now, telling her that the binding were just as much a part of the ceremony as the essence. The bindings were symbols, magically powerful in their meaning. It was not just about being tied up; it was about being trusted to bind and be bound.

He touched his wand into the Nightshade essence, spinning it in lazy circles. The murky liquid swirled up and around his wand, every last drop suspended in a trembling coil around the slender wood.

His smile was still benign. Embracing. Without another word, he touched the tip of the wand to her forearm, twisting it so that the essence corkscrewed into the skin of her arm. Ah, the _pain_. She arched up, stifling a shriek at the exquisite sensation. Oh, she was the only one who could have taken the essence of the Nightshade; she was his best, his brightest. When their world would be saved by him, she would be the general at his right-hand, the one most deserving. This was to be her glory, if she could only withstand--

"What," Lord Voldemort began contemplatively, even as Bellatrix writhed under the delicious agony, sweat beading between her small breasts and gliding down her stomach, "is the folklore behind the Nightshade?"

The pain in her arm was almost too much, but Bellatrix took into deep into the center of her mind, charming it, transfiguring it, using it as fuel. Her lips were pulled back from her teeth in a grin at her Master, his Mark still forming on her arm, so slowly, marking her to her soul.

Lord Voldemort smiled back, nodding invitingly from under his heavy cowl.

" _Muggles_ ," she spat out with more disdain than pain, "they believe that... that their Dementor--"

"Devil," her Master corrected, his slight smile growing dark. The Mark was almost complete and he ran one long-fingered hand along the damp skin of her thigh. She moaned, the tickling of his fingers overloading her hypersensitive skin. Her nipples were crinkled tightly and she made another desperate moan as a slight breeze brushed against them, a breeze commanded into delicate existence by _him_. "Continue, my precious."

"Their lore claims that only the Devil may plant and reap from the Nightshade. Anyone eating will be... oohhh. They, they will be visited by the Devil and killed."

"The price of the Devil's Cherries is very high. It is your life. But not for me and mine, who eat death itself."

The ending of the Marking was abrupt with that solemn declaration, the weight of a binding spell plucking at each word; the cessation of pain was a severe ache in itself. She was just a little surprised to find herself on the brink of orgasm, a point she only ever reached when hearing the begging gasps of her playthings, sneering down at their eagerly trembling faces while she pressed hasty fingers against herself.

Bellatrix twisted towards his fingers as he continued to stroke her skin softly, tracing patterns around the Dark Mark, spells to complete the connection, to triangulate his position when he called to them. Oh, to have a link to the man who would rid their world of unnecessary trash. Scum, vermin, worthless _beings_ , watering down the strength of their powerful blood.

"To be sure, no one would truly pick you but your own Lord Voldemort," her Master said in such a gentle voice and a sensation like a thousand tiny _Crucios_ exploded in the wake of his fingers, instantly followed by the pleasuring needles of _Euphores_ , the sensory opposite of torture. "They would not dare. Not even your own dearly beloved. Will he be as loved as I am?"

"Never!" She arched nearly off the stone surface of the table, which had turned warm and damp below her back. She was teetering on a knife's edge, back and forth between _Crucio_ and _Euphore_.

"My own Bella," her Lord Voldemort crooned and she was beginning to shake so hard that she almost did not notice the triumphant gleam in his eyes. Yet she did; this was how she _must_ look when displaying her rightful dominance, she thought as she cried out, so terrifyingly wonderful; the thought propelled her so far and over, because they were the same, they were _the very same_ , the Devil and his Cherry. It was so beautiful, so strong and _they were right_.


End file.
